


Sugar, Oh Honey Honey!

by wecara



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Chocolate, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gift Fic, M/M, Shance Secret Santa 2018, Shiro has a sweet tooth, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 21:31:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17149424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wecara/pseuds/wecara
Summary: Lance didn't know that when he started dating the decisive head of Voltron it also meant dating an incognito sugar addict.





	Sugar, Oh Honey Honey!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeathByStorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathByStorm/gifts).



> Heya DeathByStorm! Surprise! I was your secret santa! I had a lot of fun with this fic (I even went a liiittle over the word count but shh don't tell anyone) I hope your holidays are full of cheer and Shance!!  
> yours truly, wecara

There were a lot of things Lance wasn’t expecting when he started dating Shiro. He’d been completely prepared for the nightmares, and the PTSD, and the scars from his time in captivity, Shiro had made sure of that. He didn’t want Lance getting into anything he couldn’t handle, and Lance vehemently assured him that he wanted Shiro exactly as he was. It had been a bit hard to get used to at first, but eventually Shiro started opening up and Lance was thrilled that he was trusted with their leader’s deepest feelings.

Lance hadn’t been ready for some of the other stuff, though. Take, for example, the fact that Shiro was a  _ massive  _ fan of cuddling. The once untouchable hero Lance had grown up worshipping had a completely different, snuggly side to him that came out in the most unexpected ways. He’d go from calm and calculating during a mission (which was totally sexy in its own way) to a melted mess of muscular limbs and nuzzling cheeks in the break room just minutes later. It gave Lance whiplash, but he welcomed it seeing as he was from a large family of dog piles and Mama’s kisses. Daily cuddle sessions just became part of their routine.

There were other little things that caught Lance off guard, but the biggest shock to him by far was Shiro’s sweet tooth. He’ll never forget the day he’d stumbled out of bed to grab a glass of water and caught Shiro standing in the dimly lit kitchen dumping alien hot chocolate powder straight from the package into his mouth. He’d been frozen in place as if Lance wouldn’t be able to see him if he stayed still, a horrified expression on his chiseled face. 

“Takashi?” he asked quietly.

“Lance,” Shiro responded, awkwardly tossing the package onto the counter and flicking it out of view, but it was too late. The deed had been done. 

“Is that… the alien hot chocolate powder from Corethia?” 

“No?” Shiro said hopefully, and Lance folded his arms and smirked knowingly in his direction. At that, the taller man sighed with defeat and said, “please don’t tell the team.”

Lance still mentioned the incident teasingly from time to time, mostly because he was still trying to cope with the fact that  _ the  _ Takashi Shirogane wasn’t the bitter black coffee kinda guy he’d always pictured him to be. In reality, Shiro was an absolute, 100% certified, bona-fide  _ dork.  _ And it was adorable.

Today they were on a much needed vacation week after the recent liberation of a resort planet called Triamtan. It was impossible to tell native Triamtanites from other species of aliens as people from across the galaxy came to visit the gorgeous planet and then just decided to stay. Triamtan’s sky had gorgeous scarlet sunrises, rose gold middays, and violet sunsets as each of its two suns made differently paced trips across the sky. The beaches’ powdery white sand and pale pink ocean sparkled brilliantly in the afternoon, and the quaint beachside kiosks wafted warm, sugary aromas across the main street at all hours of the day. 

In the evening the beach life didn’t calm down. In fact, the people of the planet only seemed to get more lively as the second sun finally set and the planet was swathed in a mild night breeze. Neon lights flickered on in each of the kiosks, lining the walls and swirling through the rooftops. All of a sudden, the night was dark no longer as the streets became awash with a multi colored glow. 

It was during one of these breathtaking night time shows of color and light that the pair came across Dama’s Cool Bar. The bar was nestled snugly between a bustling club, the walls pulsing with a strange bassy melody that sounded notes Lance wasn’t even sure existed on Earth; and a semicircular building serving what appeared to be an alien version of buffet-style pizza. 

The neon sign immediately caught Lance’s eye. Written in tight, curled script, the cornflower blue glow flickered over the pavement with the same cool ethereality as an Earthen full moon. He grabbed Shiro’s hand and dragged him over to the bar almost in a daze.

“Huh, a cool bar?” Shiro said as Lance pushed the glossy glass doors open and stepped inside. The interior was illuminated with the same bluish glow of the neon sign out front, and behind the smooth white countertop he could see a wall stocked floor-to-ceiling with colorful bottles and cartons of all shapes and sizes, each shelf illuminated with a strip of neon in all the colors of the rainbow. The other walls were pale blue with shattered pieces of mirrors adorning them like a reflective mosaic, and an assortment of strangely shaped blue chairs were scattered around a handful of circular tables. 

“Welcome in! I’m Dama, what can I get you?” said a voice from behind the counter. Lance looked over to see a tall, thin alien with smooth blue skin and reflective opalescent spots dotting their temples, the sides of their neck, the tops of their cheekbones, and the topside of their hands and arms—of which there were four. Their hair was silver and fell in sleek tresses down their back and shoulders, and their eyes were a brilliant indigo. Instead of five fingers on each hand they had four, and their ears were long and pointed like an Altean’s. They smiled, and Lance spotted four pointed fangs poking out of the top row of their teeth, two on each side.

“Uh, Hi Dama, I’m Lance, and this is my boyfriend, Shiro,” Lance stutters awkwardly. Coran hadn’t told them that it was a custom in Triamtan to introduce themselves to everyone they met, but so far each person they’d bumped into had taken the time to do so, even if it was the briefest of interactions. Eventually they just learned to do the same. 

After a moment of scanning the massive collection of bottles and cartons, Shiro leaned down and murmured to Lance, “Just so you know, I’m not going to let you get hammered. You’re still only 19.”

“Aww,” Lance pouted. “What difference does a couple years make in alcoholic legality? You know, the drinking age in Cuba was 16.”

“Could we have a menu? We’re having a difficult time deciding,” Shiro asked politely, ignoring Lance’s complaining. 

“Sure!” Dama said, reaching under the counter and pulling out a small blue device with a round button on the bottom and a black strip indicating a holograph sourcer on the top. “The drinks in pink are non-alcoholic, for reference.”

Shiro thanked her and pressed the button on the underside of the device, and a holographic screen lit up in front of them with the names of hundreds of alien drinks that Lance didn’t think he could pronounce if he tried. They scanned the menu helplessly for a few ticks, and Lance was getting close to just ordering something at random and hoping that it wouldn’t poison his human biology when Shiro stiffened abruptly beside him. 

“Is that what I think it is?” he whispered in near-dumbstruck awe, pointing to a small drink name in the lower left corner of the screen, highlighted in pink. Lance narrowed his eyes and leaned in close to read the tiny text as Shiro practically vibrated with excitement beside him.

“Tr ū -M ū,” Lance read, brows furrowing. “I don’t get it.”

“ Tr ū -M ū! As in,  _ TruMoo?  _ My childhood favorite brand of chocolate milk?!” Shiro cried jovially, bouncing up to the counter. “Two of these, please,” he asked, a blinding smile gracing his already gorgeous face. 

“You had a favorite brand of chocolate milk?” Lance muttered, amusement turning the corners of his lips up into a subtle smirk. 

“Sure thing! What size?” Dama asked over Lance’s musings.

“The biggest,” Shiro replied seriously, as if he were demanding that a Galra commander hand over a pack of hostages rather than requesting a size for a sugary beverage. 

“Venti it is,” Dama supplied, oblivious to the darkness of Shiro’s tone. They then disappeared behind the wall of drinks as a holographic screen appeared in front of a small blue box on the counter, showing the price of each drink in Triamtan currency. 

“Oh my god, it’s like at Starbucks,” Lance breathed, his body suddenly taken over with giggles. “This is an Earthen sugar dealer in space.”

Dama reappeared from behind the wall with two towering blue cups of a creamy light brown liquid and placed them on the counter in front of them. Shiro reached down into the pocket of his black Triamtanite shorts they’d gotten from a small boutique earlier in the week and pulled out a handful of opal-colored stones which he began to sort through for the proper amount of change. Lance reached out and pushed his hand down immediately, already placing two round stones and one triangular one into Dama’s outstretched hand.

“No, Takashi, let me get it. You paid for these sunglasses at the last kiosk, remember?” Lance insisted. Shiro opened his mouth to argue, but instead his eyes flicked over to Dama, who was standing frozen in place with their hand still open under Lance’s.

“Are you alright?” Shiro asked cautiously. The alien’s indigo eyes were flickering back and forth between the two in an almost horrified manner, and their mouth was opening and closing like a fish’s.

“Takashi, as—as in,  _ Takashi Shirogane?  _ You’re—you’re the paladins! Lance and Shiro!” Dama stammered, pointing at the two of them. 

“That’s us,” Lance said with a smile. Dama looked as if they were going to faint. 

“F-forgive me for not noticing earlier! If I’d known I’d—please, the drinks are free of charge, take as much as you want—could—could I have your autographs?” Dama hastily pressed the stones back into Lance’s slender brown fingers and pushed the drinks towards them, scrambling through the underside of the counter before pulling out a swirling blue pen. 

“Absolutely,” Lance grinned and signed the slip of paper she held out for him with a flourish, doodling a heart and a tiny voltron symbol underneath it. Shiro followed suit, neatly signing his name and adding underneath it ‘the Black Paladin.’  Though he did so with less melodrama than Lance had, bashfully smiling at the alien and handing the paper back to them. Dama beamed at them and took the papers, hugging them close to her chest with two hands and handing them their drinks with the others. Lance leaned over and dropped a few of the shimmering stones into a small tip jar when Dama wasn’t looking, then took his and Shiro’s drinks and began to walk over to one of the tables. They knew from experience that trying to convince a store vendor to let them pay for things would be futile given their celebrity status in the known universe, but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t try to repay them in other, sneakier ways. 

After a couple attempts, they figured out a comfortable way to sit down on the oddly-shaped chairs and situated themselves  so that they were facing each other, legs intertwined beneath the table. Shiro was positively  _ glowing  _ with excitement. He leaned forward and took a sip from the spiraling blue straw almost reverently, and Lance suppressed his smile to do the same. 

Immediately, the familiar taste of sugary, milky goodness flooded his taste buds. He’d never been a big chocolate milk drinker, but all of a sudden the nostalgia for a home they’d left light years away swept him up in a creamy chocolate bliss. He began gulping the drink down with renewed vigor, groaning with content. Once he came down from his nostalgic high just a bit, he glanced up at his boyfriend across the table from him, and was greeted with a sight that sent his heart aflutter.

Shiro’s cheeks were dusted a faint pink with childlike excitement as he watched in absolute  _ joy  _ the way the chocolate milk would bubble up when he blew into the straw. He’d alternate between taking heavy sips from the swirly straw—another source of childlike nostalgia for Lance—and blowing bubbles until they nearly slipped from the rim of the cup. His slate grey eyes sparkled under the glittering influence of the mirror shards on the walls, and his knees bounced up and down against Lance’s legs as if the adrenaline from drinking a simple Earthen beverage was too much for his big body to hold. 

“Hey, Takashi,” he said, nudging Shiro’s leg with his own, “What dessert can fly a spaceship?”

Shiro glanced up from his cup mid bubble-blow, eyebrows raised. Then he frowned and tapped his fingers to his lips thoughtfully. “Are we thinking hypothetically, if a dessert became sentient, which one would be best suited to fly a spaceship? Or which dessert’s ingredients could be changed into fuel to propel a spaceship the easiest?” he asked. Then he shook his head, brows furrowing. “I don’t understand the question.”

Lance grinned. “A chocolate chip Wookie.”

It took a moment, but slowly and surely the corners of his lips twisted up into a blinding white smile. Shiro giggled— _ giggled _ —and covered his face with his prosthetic hand, shaking his head. 

“Was that an old TruMoo carton joke?” he asked.

“Yep!” Lance replied, and bent forward to take another sip. The hollow gurgling noise of his straw grasping at nothing filled the air, and he frowned down into his now empty cup. A quick glance over at Shiro indicated that his cup was in similar condition. “What do you say we get another round?”

“Hmm, I think maybe we need to buy a couple cartons off Dama for the ship. Y’know, to share with the others,” Shiro said as he began walking back to the counter. Lance stood up and leaped over to Shiro’s side, intertwining their fingers.

“Ohh,  _ sure,  _ to  _ share, _ ” Lance teased. Shiro faux-pouted, jutting his lower lip out exaggeratedly. As Lance began to laugh at the expression, Shiro’s pout morphed into another joyous smile and he joined in as they walked shaking with laughter up to the counter.

Lance spent the rest of the night laughing and talking with his boyfriend as they carried box after box of TruMoo Chocolate Milk gallons back to the castle ship (and oogling his muscles too—seriously, Shiro was  _ jacked _ ).

Sure, he missed home more than anything. But if he was forced to spend the rest of his life with Shiro drinking more chocolate milk than their bodies could contain as they gazed up at the stars, then in Lance’s mind the future was bright. 


End file.
